I awoke just now to rain on my window pane. I don’t live in Seattle, so it’s easy for me to say I love it. It is 3 in the morning, and I have been listening to this Nevada downpour for an hour. That’s a big deal here in the desert.
I want to just lie here and soak it in like a sponge, but my mind wanders in a million directions. Some prayers. Some unsettled business. Some reminders of what needs to happen from my to-do list. Some mulling over of the books I just finished.
I want to, but I can’t turn of all the thoughts. I am thirsty for water. I am thirsty for more. Of everything.
My husband is not home and I miss my big kids. Two are on a mission trip and one is living life in Southern California with some friends. They will all be home by Friday, but that seems far.
Ten caterpillars are morphing into butterflies in my classroom. Right now. I am worried they will turn before my students can come back to see it.
Teenagers flash through my mind intermittently. I pray for them. You pass through my mind, my friend and reader. I pray a blessing on you. It’s ok if we haven’t met. It’s best if we have, but I pray either way. Be blessed.
I can’t find my cards. Over a year ago, I outlined my entire book on twenty index cards. They are my secondary most important resource to writing this book. And I cannot find them. Please say a prayer on that one for me. It’s giving me a belly ache.
All of these thoughts, but really I keep circling back to one.
I pray about my future. I think it’s changing. There is a need that warrants filling. And God is unsubtly dropping hints. Smooth. Normally, I would say this isn’t for me, but the fact that I am so vehemently doubting my ability for God to use me in this space says otherwise. Like Moses.
“You’ve got the wrong guy. Teenagers?” I say.
“Yes. They like you. You are weird, but relatable.” He says.
“But, I am an adult. Aren’t I supposed to be scared of teenagers? They can be weird. Oh. Er. I see. But they come with face piercings. Uh. Hmm. I see. But I want to be liked. If I boss them they won’t think I am funny anymore.” I stammer.
“They don’t need a peer. You are WAY too old to be their peer.,” he says with a smirk.
“Thanks Lord. That’s nice. I feel good now.”
I can almost feel his shoulders shake to hide His laughter. He adds, “they need someone who isn’t afraid to love them as they are, where they are, and who won’t be afraid to tell it to them straight. They don’t need bossing. They need Me. They need a leader to sympathize with their problems but hold them accountable to love others more than themselves. Their focus is all wrong. They need someone to give them a little shove because right now they feel like they can’t make a difference. But you know better, and I want you to tell them.”
“Lord, I don’t want to be Moses. I don’t want to say ‘you have the wrong guy’.”
“Then don’t,” he says simply.
“Ok. Protect my relationship with my own teens. I don’t want them to feel like I am butting in. I don’t want them to feel like I am invading their space. They are my priority over other kids.”
“Just tell them that. Be Frank. He’s great.”
“Funny. Ok. Use me. I’ll do it. Show me what it looks like. Show me how. When. Because I think it’s going to start small. As do so many good things. I feel myself jumping the gun heading to the end of rather than the starting point.”
“Pray. Just ask. And, hey. Ask each day. Not just once. There’s a lot to talk about. If this is the only time we discuss it, you’ll miss things. I will show you along the way. In my timing. For I know the plans I have for you. Did you catch that? I KNOW. those are the important words of that sentence. You are saying it wrong. Your emphasis is on the plans instead of me. Be willing. Be here. Everyday. Look for it. Be the part of Moses who did it afraid, but he did it still. Are you willing?”
I should pause and see if it’s true, but I just say it, ” Anything. Lord, I will do anything. You loved me first. You love me still. You love me when I am a total spaz. I will do it afraid. Anything.”
Beginning the first Saturday in May I will be leading a book study on Jennie Allen’s book “Anything”. We will read a couple chapters each week, and meet back here to discuss what we get out of it.
If you are local, we are meeting at Starbucks on Saturdays at 8:30 each morning. Books are available at your local Christian bookstore or through Amazon.com.
Begin now by asking yourself, “What are you willing to do for God? How big? How scary? How self-sacrificing?” Bring your answer May 4th.
Contact me for further details.